A Life In Theory
by ladyklee
Summary: A few days in the life of Alim Surana, as he travels back to his former home in the Circle Tower, and deals with his growing fascination with a certain dark haired witch. In the 'Tricking the Past' universe. Chapter 3 now up.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** A companion to Tricking the Past, I decided to write a short story of Alim's journey with the companions back to Circle Tower. It's not necessary to read this to get Tricking the Past, and it's not terribly necessary to read TTP to get this, though this can't really be considered "stand-alone", it's just a little extra to the story.

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><p><em><strong>A Life In Theory<br>**_  
>Chapter 1 - <em>You Can Never Go Home Again<em>

They were headed for Kinloch Hold, home to Ferelden's Circle of Magi.

Alim Surana checked the sky, enjoying the feel of the sun's rays on his skin as it dipped low in the sky, despite the chill in the air. He hadn't realized until he left the tower how good it felt to feel the heat of the sun, the wind on your face. The rain, nearly freezing in the early weeks of Satinalia, was a different matter entirely, but they had only run into a half day of it so far.

He had found he wasn't the only one adjusting to the new sensations of being outside as they traveled with the two dwarves, Oghren and Dagna. As different as night and day, Dagna had found Ferelden's rather variable weather exciting, shrieking in delight as the first drops of rain touched her face.

She had peppered Alim and Serena with questions about clouds then, and their role in the moisture cycle. The girl was adorable in her want to learn everything, if not a bit exhausting at times.

Oghren, however, was another matter entirely. Alim couldn't say the man was _frightened_ of weather, or the sky, or _anything_ really when one thought about it. But he had a... _way_... about him; a gruff sort of manner that reminded the elf of his own father, who had done much the same when something had troubled him. Instead of talking, he simply took a deep breath, as if stealing himself for something awful, and endured.

Occasionally Alim still caught Oghren looking up at the sky in confused wonderment, as if concerned how something so big could simply... stay up there all the time without walls to hold it.

The closer they got to the tower, though, the more Alim felt his own worry creep into his heart. He had left on less than desirable terms. Of course, Circle mages were never meant to leave _at_ _all_, so that compounded the problem, certainly.

He remembered the last time the templars had hauled Anders back, the rebellious mage that some of the younger apprentices always swooned after when he sauntered by. Two black eyes and the bleeding lip none-withstanding, the blonde mage had still looked handsome, as the two enormous templars had dragged him past the dining hall, their message to the rest of them obvious.

_This is what happens when you try to run_, it said. _We find you. We will always find you, and when we do, you will be sorry_.

But they hadn't found _him_. Alim was positive if he hadn't made the decision to storm the Arl's estate in Denerim, he might have slipped past the templars for many more weeks, months even. The people of the Alienage had sheltered him as they would one of their own, even when those metal-clad monsters came knocking, Andraste's Flaming Sword bared across their silver chests.

Alim's eyes unconsciously slipped to Alistair then. Walking at the front, deep in conversation with Serena, he was unlike many of the templars stationed at the tower. Full of jokes and laughter, Alim found it hard to believe the man had lived the majority of his life in the clutches of the Chantry. All the initiates he had ever met had been so serious, so full of themselves and the Chant of Light.

And then there was Serena. Her conviction and faith were almost suffused into her very being. He hadn't gone a day in her company without overhearing her pray to the Maker, or murmur lines of the Chant under her breath. Alistair almost hated the Chantry, and seemed somewhat ambivalent about the Chant, whereas for Serena, it was simply a daily part of her life. The Maker, his Bride, they were always there with her. It was an odd pairing, really, when one sat down and thought about her and Alistair together.

But when you saw them together... that was when you knew. Their sense of humor complimented each other, and they seemed able to read each other's emotions in a way the rest of the companions, no matter how close they appeared to either of them, couldn't touch with a ten-foot-pole.

But their consideration to each other certainly extended to the party at large, too. Alim had never felt so at ease around such a large group before, so accepted. He didn't want it to go.

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><p>They were settled in camp a few hours later, the group split into its usual groups. Sten and Alistair were sparring nearby, the sound of their grunts drifted back to the camp. Oghren sat in front of his tent, shining his great sword with a rag and some borrowed polish while he waited to take on the winner of their bout.<p>

Leliana was speaking with the ever-talkative Dagna, telling her a story about her childhood in Orlais by the sound of it. Zevran punctuated the tale with jokes and sly smiles, which caused the dwarven girl to blush furiously.

Wynne made a large batch of hot tea in the cauldron they usually used for preparing meals. Alim could smell the rich herbs, canavaris among them, as they wafted over to him. Dipping a ladle in it, she filled two mugs, handing one to him, and the other to Serena.

The Warden-Commander smiled her thanks to the older woman, nodding to Alim as she drank deeply of the hot tea. "Your tea is like a spell itself, Wynne," she said. "I love the smell of elfroot... so fragrant."

Alim took a gulp of his own tea, unsure how to broach the topic with her. He saw her pick up her journal and a bit of charcoal, opening it back up to a previous page. Giving him an impish smile, she began to draw him, her slender fingers flicking the charcoal across the page quickly as she roughed out his features.

Trying to hold still, she grinned wider, shaking her head. "No need, Alim, just go about your business. You don't need to be a statue for me."

"Oh, alright." He took another sip, as if the tea would give him courage. "How... how long have you kept a journal?"

"This is my second one since... last Summerday? I think I started my first one for this little journey last summer, yes." She sighed, the charcoal piece still whipping about the page as she colored in his dark shock of hair. "Morrigan got this one for me for my birthday, actually."

"Morrigan?" Alim said, surprised. "I didn't think you two were... friends."

"Oh, no, no, we're very close. We bicker like sisters, really. We argue, but neither of us actually _mean_ anything by it. Morrigan really does want what's best for the group, you know? It just comes out... sounding very rude and awful sometimes." The brunette glanced over to the small fire nearby, where Morrigan's slight form could be seen hunched over. "Even now, she's making more health poultices for everyone, so we don't wear you and Wynne out."

"She can be a bit difficult at times, Alim, but... it was a lot in how she was raised, I think," Wynne added, filling her own mug with the hot tea. Serena nodded her agreement. "Her mother, or so I've heard, raised her to be very strong, and sometimes that comes out as..."

"Irritated," Serena supplied. "But she is wildly _un_selfish, when it comes down to it. We're a bit like a family here. Everyone helps everyone else, even if they don't like them very much, because it's for the good of the group. And considering how much trouble we get up to, it's bound that person is going to save your life at least once." Serena paused, considering the drawing before she rubbed her thumb over a section of it, nodding absently. "Your hair is like a... a horse's mane, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Oh, yeah... there was a girl, back at the tower. Emmaline. She uh, she liked it this way, and so I've just kept it, I suppose." Alim could feel a blush flutter up his skin and hoped the light was low enough to conceal it. "It isn't too difficult to draw, is it?"

"No, no, it's rather fun." She scooted over to the log he sat on and handed the journal over. "It's not perfect, but I think it captures your... thoughtfulness, you know?"

Alim nodded. Nobody had ever drawn him before, and the sketch, while small, was quite magnificent. Large black coal eyes seemed deep in thought as the charcoal Alim held a cup of tea, little swirls of steam rising up above it. "Do you have any others?"

"I think I've done just about everyone some time or another." She flipped the pages back. "See, there's Leliana... She was playing her lute, but her fingers were moving so fast. That's Zevran, of course. His braids were hard to get right, he's so particular, you know." The assassin was balancing a blade on his finger in the drawing, grinning broadly.

"Oh, and here's Alistair. I have lots of him, of course. He's so easy to draw now, just a funny little haircut and a smile, really. Then Peanut, though he won't _ever_ stay still unless he's napping." She reached out and scratched the ears of the giant mabari at her feet. The hound snuffled in response, almost purring like a cat.

Nodding to the next page, she said, "Sten and his sword." Serena leaned in, whispering. "Word of advice: don't ever come between that man and his sword or you're likely to lose an arm, or worse."

Alim nodded, turning the page back again. The journal was already filled a third of the way, despite looking very new. Little coal and ink drawings covered the pages that weren't cramped with notes and maps.

An inky black drawing of Morrigan stood out on the next page, drawing Alim's eye. She was holding her hands up, a streak of fire winding down her arms as she prepared a spell.

"She's surprisingly fun to draw," Serena said lightly, her eyes watching Alim carefully. "Have you talked to Morrigan much?"

"Ah, just a few... a few times," Alim spluttered. "Here and there." Damn that blush.

"She likes you, I think," Serena continued. "She doesn't like very many people, but I think she was... a little bit amazed by your... your death magic, did you call it?" At Alim's slight nod, she smiled again, that sly grin Serena seemed to had perfected. "She's all by herself right now."

"Oh, well, I wanted to uh, talk to you about being a Grey Warden, actually," Alim said, blushing furiously again. "I was going to ask you..."

Serena waved her hand, cutting him off. "There's plenty of time for that. We won't reach the tower for another few days yet. Plenty of time to bore you to tears with Warden stories." She dug in her pack, handing him a crop of flowers. "Just give her these. I'm sure she's out, she was saying so earlier." Taking the flowers, he glanced over at the witch hesitantly before he felt Serena's hands on his, urging him gently. "She'll love them."

Standing up, he walked a few paces, unsure of what to say to the dark haired mage. He could hear Serena's faint giggle from behind him and he looked back over his shoulder. Wynne's quiet admonishments drifted over.

"You meddle too much, Serena. He'll be eaten alive by that woman."

"Oh, have a little faith," Serena said laughingly. "He's a big boy. Plus, she likes him."

"As if that makes a difference." The older mage huffed. "You are throwing him to the wolves, quite literally."

Serena simply laughed, draining the rest of her cup. "You know, I think it would be good if _you_ threw yourself to the wolves every so often, Wynne." Standing up from the fire, she waved to Alim, flicking her fingers to where Morrigan sat. "Don't listen to her, you'll be fine."

Turning back, Alim made his way awkwardly over to the second fire, where Morrigan sat quietly weaving health poultices together. She looked up at his approach, her golden eyes taking in his face, his arms, his robes. His robes were new, at least, not the filthy ones from before. He'd purchased a new set in Orzammar before they'd left.

"Did you need something?"

"I brought these for you," he said, thrusting the flowers at her. His legs felt like jelly under her unyielding gaze and he sunk down to the ground beside her, despite her not inviting him to do so. She watched him do it without a word of protest, though, those golden eyes never leaving him.

"It's canavaris," he said stupidly. Of course she knew what it was, she had asked Serena for them. Alim's hand itched to smack himself in the forehead.

"'Tis true," Morrigan replied, taking the offered flowers. "Not many know their true name. Serena calls them elfroot."

"I studied herbalism a bit, back at the tower, so I know the flowers are more potent than the leaves." He glanced at the intrigue weaving she had done on the health poultices. Bound for durability as well as to hold as much of the salve as possible without drying out, they were brilliantly crafted. "Nothing like that, of course, but enough to know I wasn't accidentally poisoning myself."

"A good skill to have, certainly," Morrigan agreed, a small smile curving her full lips. She really was absolutely beautiful, Alim thought, watching her lips move as she spoke. Like some sort of exotic flower, or a jungle cat. "Especially when the assassin carries so many toxins on him."

"He seems nice enough." Alim had no idea what to talk about with this woman. He hoped he wasn't babbling. She was so... unwavering. So _steady_. She seemed young, younger than him, but who knew really? Alistair said she was a witch of the wilds... "Have you... been to the tower before?"

"Unfortunately. I helped clear it with the others, when that power-hungry mage went on a rampage, turning everyone into abominations." She frowned, picking up one of the poultices, her fingers slipping the bits of fabric between themselves. "An admirable notion, allowing the mages freedom, but really he only intended to bind them to _him_ in servitude. Why trade your chains for a more bloody set?"

"Why have chains at all?" Alim pondered quietly.

Morrigan's eyes flipped up at that, her smile now more pronounced. "Indeed."

"Mages are treated as tools... or, or lackeys. We're meant to support others when they can forget we're _dangerous_ long enough to let us cast; only to be shoved back in the closet when they've had us do what they needed. After Loghain, I hate feeling used now." Alim sighed, absently plucking the leaves off the canavaris, preparing them for her next poultice. "I used to not care, you know. I figured if I kept my head down, I wouldn't... I wouldn't run into any trouble. So much for that theory."

"Trouble, as you call it, is what makes life worth living." Morrigan touched his hand, gathering the prepared flowers, and he could have sworn he felt her fingers linger a tad longer than necessary. "I spent my entire life in the Wilds, until joining Serena and her... templar. I knew very little of the world of man other than what my mother imparted upon me, save that it was perilous."

"You've been with them a long time," Alim confirmed. He hadn't thought she would be in the same boat as he, as it were. The Tower, the Wilds... were they really so different? They kept you away from experiencing the world as it was meant to be experienced.

"Since the beginning, you could say." Her fingers weaved the leaves in now, a slight glow of green magic fueling the assembly. "We have seen a great deal, 'tis true."

"If you could, would you go back? Go back to the Wilds? To the safety of it?"

There was a long pause, where the witch seemed to consider her next words. "I... no. No, I do not believe I would. Even if my mother were there to welcome me with open arms, I know my place is here, next to Serena." Her golden eyes found his dark ones. "And what of you? The tower lies beyond. In a few days we shall reach it... Do you still wish to become a Grey Warden?"

"Yes," Alim replied. "I don't want to go back to the tower and live my life _in __theory_." Boldly, he put a hand over hers, touching the soft skin lightly. He heard a tiny intake of breath from her and smiled. "There is a lot I have yet to... experience, and I wish to do it on my own terms now."

Morrigan's answering smile was slow. "_Indeed_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Next chapter up tomorrow! Thank you for the reviews and favorites!

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><p><span>Chapter <span>2 - _The __Looming __Question_

He was getting nervous. It felt like the weeks before his Harrowing, actually. It was that same pit of anxiety that twisted and coiled in his guts as he tried to study every book in the tower library. If he could have sucked the knowledge up through his fingers, he would have, he was so desperate to pass.

The Harrowing.

In the Circle Tower it was the difference between being an apprentice and being a full Circle mage. But really, it was the difference between life and death. If you succeeded, if you did not succumb to the demons in the Fade... then you lived. If the demon tempted you, if you took too long, if you were not strong enough, not _powerful _enough, then you would still return, but only to a templar's long sword through the gut.

Through the exact same gut that now wiggled with tension at the thought of returning to his former home.

Alistair had told him this morning they were two days out, maybe less. His window of opportunity was getting smaller and smaller. Every time he tried to broach the topic with Serena, however, something always seemed to _happen_.

First, she had pawned him off on Morrigan, although that hadn't been entirely unpleasant, he had to admit. Next time he had cornered her, the attack came. A group of Loghain's men had ambushed their camp, a templar among them using his phylactery to find Serena and the rest.

They had dispatched all except the templar, Ser Boyd, who had generously provided them with Loghain's message to Circle Tower.

Knight-Commander Greagoir-

_I have had news the Grey Wardens and their accomplices are headed for the tower, in order to secure some ancient treaty. I would appreciate your cooperation in holding them until my men can collect them, should they be unable to meet them beforehand. I am sending along a templar with one of the conspirators' phylacteries, an elf named Surana. Ser Boyd may remain in your retinue; I am to understand your ranks have been depleted greatly in the last few months._

_See that the Wardens are held. This is not a request._

Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir  
>Regent to Queen Anora Theirin<p>

Serena had been livid at that.

"Ser Boyd may remain in your retinue!" she repeated loudly, nearly shouting as she waved the paper in the templar's face. "I am to understand your ranks have been _depleted __greatly_... Oh, sweet Maker… Do you hear that, Ser Boyd? You may remain in the Knight-Commander's retinue! How nice of Loghain, don't you think?"

"Serena, stop shouting." Alistair touched her gently on the shoulder, his eyes focused on the templar they had tied up. "It isn't Boyd's fault." Serena looked about to argue the point, but then sighed, acquiescing to Alistair.

"You're right, you're... right." Serena rubbed her temples. "I apologize for my outburst, Ser Boyd. I know you were just... doing your duty. I am simply _puzzled_ how Teyrn Loghain could forget that it was _he_ who encouraged Uldred's takeover of the tower in order to gain the Circle as an ally." She turned back to the frightened Ser Boyd. "Were you aware of _that_ when you took on this mission?"

"No, my lady. Had I known..." The sandy haired templar stared at his bound feet. "I do not believe the Revered Mother knows any of this."

"And you were sent here to find Alim, is that also correct?"

"Y-yes, my lady. The escaped Circle mage Alim Surana."

"He is not _escaped_. He is under the protection of the Grey Wardens, Ser Boyd," Serena replied, drawing herself up to her full height. Alim was glad he wasn't in the templar's boots, watching her just-controlled rage at the situation. He was pretty sure if Alistair hadn't been there, she would have still been ranting. "Where is his phylactery?"

"In my saddle-bag, my lady." The templar sounded utterly defeated and Alim fought the urge to smile. At least this templar had been smart enough to surrender before Zevran plunged a dagger through his side. His fellows hadn't been as astute. "It is next to my water skin."

Serena strided over to the templar's horse, rooting through the saddle-bag with purpose. Alim could see her touch the horse gently, soothing it's fidgety nature as she pulled something from the leather bag. Striding back over to where the templar sat bound, a red vial on a chain swinging in her hand, she kneeled beside the blonde man.

"You will not be held responsible for it's loss, I assure you."

Placing the phylactery on the ground before her, Serena pulled her dagger and slammed the hilt down atop it, shattering the glass. A small bit of blood dribbled out, glowing brightly as Alim stood nearby. He didn't know the precise way they used the phylacteries to track apostates but it _seemed_ like...

"Blood magic, isn't it? I mean, this _is_ blood." Serena put a finger in the glowing substance. "Yes, this is blood. So, _that's_ sort of ironic, isn't it, Ser Boyd?"

"Extremely, my lady." The templar gulped, the bob in his throat dipping up and down. "Are you going to kill me now, my lady?"

"No, no. We're going to take you with us to Circle Tower, and should you choose to remain in the Knight-Commanders retinue, you may do so." Serena wiped the pommel of her dagger absently, her eyes boring into his. "I won't allow you to return to Loghain, however. You may go _anywhere_ else, but back to him. He would probably have you put in Fort Drakon to cover this up, anyway."

"You are correct, my lady. Arl Howe meant to put us on the racks should we fail," the templar murmured. He glanced over to his dead accomplices. "I shall see if Knight-Commander Greagoir will have me, then."

"That's a good man," Serena said, patting the silver armor fondly. She pulled her dagger across the binding at his feet. "I think you'll like Circle Tower. I've heard the food is really quite good."

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><p>"I want to <em>kill <em>him, Alistair."

"I know, Serena." He sighed. "Nobody knows better than _I_ do, believe me. If I could get my hands on him, I'd just..." He made gnashing motions with his fingers, as if to choke someone.

"He used Alim's phylactery against us! What next? Wynne's?" Serena was pacing across the small clearing where they had camped for the evening. Alim didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the two Wardens weren't exactly being quiet... "She got permission from Irving, but Maker have mercy, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to snipe at us through _her _next..."

"Perhaps it's a... compliment? In a way? I mean, this makes... what three? No... _four_... botched attempts at having us killed?" Alistair shrugged. "There isn't anything we can do about it now, though. Maybe talk to Greagoir at the tower..."

"Oh, I'm going to talk to Greagoir-"

"I meant actually _talk_, though, and not... scream in his face." Alistair put an arm around her. "They probably had no idea about this. I mean, Irving is so... _old_..."

Alim saw his opening then and stepped around the tree, his eyes flipping between the two Wardens quickly. "Hi. Uh, Serena? Well, both of you, actually. If you have a moment?"

The brunette turned, a smile, though tight, automatically lighting her features. "Always, Alim. What is it?"

"I... wished to talk to you, about... about joining the Grey Wardens." Alim swallowed. He could feel his cheeks burn, he was so nervous. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I... know we are heading back to the Circle Tower so you can ready your allies there, and I wish... I wish to be counted among them."

There was a pause, and Alim felt his stomach do a flip. Had he shocked them into silence? he wondered. Surely the idea had come up before, hadn't it?

"That isn't necessary, you know," Serena said finally. "You can stay with us as long as you want... you don't need to... you don't need to _join_ to stay." She exchanged quick glances with Alistair, something silent passing between them. "You are always welcome, as far as we're concerned."

"Yes, Alim, I mean, we'd never conscript... this isn't about Boyd, is it?" Another quick look, and then Alistair was speaking again. "We'd never turn you over to the Circle if you wished to remain with us."

"I know, and this isn't about that, honestly. I _want_ to be a Grey Warden. I want to join you." Alim sighed. "There's only two of you, and I mean... don't you need more?"

"We do, it's true. And we would be honored to count you among us, but..."

Alim crossed his arms over his chest. "It's because I'm a mage, isn't it? I know they usually take warriors, people who can... can fight. But I think I've shown you what I can. Plus... I'm smart. My magic shouldn't-"

"It isn't because you're a mage, Alim." Serena glanced at Alistair again, and Alim wondered if this was a Grey Warden thing or just a... _them_... thing. They seemed capable of having entire conversations through various types of glances. "Let's go for a walk, further away from camp."

Alim frowned, following the two Grey Wardens up the slight hill. Settling themselves on a fallen tree, he wondered what this was all about. If they didn't want him to join the Order, they could just tell him so directly.

"We want you to join the Order, Alim," Serena said steadily. "Oh, sweet Maker. This is going to sound so stupid..."

"The problem is that we... don't know how to induct you properly." Alistair broke off a bit of a branch, stripping the bark off systematically. "There is a process you have to go through, called the Joining, but neither of us... the previous Warden-Commander... D-Duncan..."

"He died at Ostagar," Serena said in a rush. "He died, and we don't know how to do the Joining, not to mention the magic involved, so we can't make you a Grey Warden unless... unless we run into some Orlesian Wardens or... or something..." She put her hands over her face. "We are the _worst_ excuses for Wardens, Alim."

"You know, nobody has to _know_ that, though..." Alistair was nodding now, mostly to himself it seemed. "We could... we could make him a Grey Warden in name, Serena. Nobody would have to know he, you know, _wasn't _one. And then whenever we get the chance, we can do the Joining." He turned to Alim. "I mean, if you still want to?"

"What is the... Joining?"

"It's... well, it's kind of a secret. But you do some magic stuff, and say some words, and drink some stuff, and then, uh..." Serena frowned. "Well, suffice it to say, there isn't any part of it we can actually _do_ save holding a cup."

"We don't even have the cup," Alistair added, his cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment. "I left it with Cailan's armor, at Redcliffe, after I cleaned them up. I was afraid it'd get lost on the road..."

"Right, so... are you sure you want to be a Grey Warden? We're horribly disorganized. At least, the Ferelden Wardens are. And this... this is a lifelong calling, Alim. It's a bit like the templars, in a way. You can't just... give it up. You are a Grey Warden for life."

"I like horribly disorganized. And lifelong burdens. I mean, I'm a _mage_ and an _elf_. You can't get much more burdened than _that_, right?" Alim smiled crookedly, looking at his hands, then back up at the two younger fighters. "Look, I... I've never really belonged... _anywhere_ before, not like this. I just... it feels _right_." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm making a mess of this, but... I don't know how else to explain it."

"Well, _I_ don't need to hear anymore." Serena glanced at her fellow Warden, her hand clasping his. Pressing their joined hands to Alim's, she smiled broadly. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Alim."

"_Really? _I mean... really?" He looked from one to the other as both were smiling now. "Well, you guys just let me know whenever you want me to, uh... officially Join, okay? I'll hold cups and do magic and whatever you need." He couldn't help the grin that was threatening to crack his face in two.

"Nobody is to know, though. As far as people at camp know, you're a full Grey Warden. Maker, as far as _anybody_ knows, you're a Grey Warden. I'm not having Greagoir or any of those wild-eyed templars taking a crack at you at the tower. No way." Serena's hand tightened on his. "You won't be able to sense the darkspawn, like we can, but if you stick near us, nobody will know the difference." She turned to Alistair, question in her eyes. "Right?"

Alistair nodded firmly. "Just like in the Wilds. All you need is one." Alim had no idea what he meant by that, but Serena was nodding again, looking pensive.

"Well, we should head back, it's nearly full-dark now." Serena stood up, brushing leaves off herself. "I don't want to worry the others anymore than we have already."

* * *

><p>Morrigan sought him out later that night.<p>

He had watch with the red haired bard, Leliana. She was walking the perimeter of the camp with Serena's hound, checking her traps for signs of intruders or animals, he supposed, when the dark haired witch materialized out of the woods unexpectedly. She looked flushed and wild, as if she'd been running hard, when she caught sight of him at the fire and made her way over to him.

"Alim. I had hoped to find you here." Arranging herself on the log next to him, she smiled, a bright flash of teeth, before looking away quickly. "'Tis a nice night."

"Yes, though I am loathe to travel too far from this fire." Alim glanced sidelong at her. "You were transformed, weren't you?"

She nodded, staring into the flames. "I was. The wolf is one of my favorites."

"They don't teach shapeshifting in the Circle. They... deny it even exists, despite having books in the library that refute such claims." Alim picked up a bit of wood and tossed it into the fire, enjoying the swift flash of heat and sparks. "How many forms do you know?"

"A few," Morrigan replied elusively. "What is you want to ask?"

Alim turned to her, an eyebrow raising slowly. "What is it _you_ want to ask? You said you were hoping to find me here."

"You are infuriating, elf."

"I'm also very handsome," Alim said, smiling. Was he flirting with her? Oh, yes, he was. Alim Surana was _flirting_ with this beautiful woman. He hadn't done much flirting in his lifetime, certainly not in the Tower, where everyone treated him as the weird in the library, or just 'the elf', but he was positive by the slight glow on her cheeks he was stumbling through it somehow. He silently wished Jowan were there to see it, he would have browned his trousers in jealousy.

"Despite that, I must assume you were successful." She paused, turning golden eyes on him. "Am I correct?"

"Successful in what, exactly?"

"Do not play games," the witch retorted. "I saw you leave camp with the two Wardens. I am not blind, Alim."

"You are many things, Morrigan, but blind is certainly not one of them." The mage watched her, silently noting she did not refer to him as 'elf' this time. Certainly that was progress? "So you want to know if they accepted my proposal then."

"'Tis what I said, is it not?"

"In a roundabout way, I suppose." He tossed another branch on the fire, rubbing his hands together to generate extra heat. "I am an official Grey Warden, yes."

"I offer you my congratulations."

"Thank you," Alim replied. "And now my question. Would you teach me how to shapeshift?"

There was a long pause before Morrigan spoke again, so long that Alim thought she might not respond at all, possibly out of offense. Finally she turned to him, scooting closer on the log, her voice barely a whisper. "'Tis difficult, I cannot impress that upon you enough. You must master one form at a time, for your _entire_ concentration must be focused on the animal you intend to become."

"Something small then, perhaps, since I am new to this. A bird. Or a hawk, maybe."

"I did not say I would teach you," Morrigan said quickly.

"You did not deny me, either," Alim countered just as quick.

The witch smiled, just slightly. "You are much smarter than you look."

"It's the hair, isn't it?" He ran a hand across his spiky mane, fingers noting the sides were coming in long. He would need a trim soon. "People always seem surprised when I start spouting brilliant theories... I must look like a criminal or something. I rather like it, though. It shows off my fancy ears." He grinned, watching her eyes flick quickly to his pointy ears and then away again, as if embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Does that... make it difficult for you?"

"Not any more than you, I suppose. " Alim peered at her robes, the bare scraps of fabric held together with leather straps. They clearly marked her as different, as a mage, and even then were _very_ unconventional for any time of the year, except maybe the dead heat of summer. "In the Circle, I stood out, because I was an elf in a tower filled with mostly humans. Even there, where we are all mages... it still mattered I was a... 'knife-ear'... because that made me strange."

"Out here, I am one of hundreds... no, _thousands_ of elves... but I am a mage, and in a land where there are few mages, and even fewer elven ones... that is something to be feared." Alim sighed. "While I would not choose either extreme, to be feared is better than being disrespected, or treated as less than worthy." He stared into the fire for awhile after that, his admission rolling around in his head. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Morrigan seemed to admire power, and while his magic often was, his person often... wasn't.

"I will teach you to change your form," Morrigan said suddenly. "I shall collect you at your tent in the morning. Be ready. This will not be easy." She touched his hand lightly before standing up and stalking off to her tent.

He watched her go, a small smile on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Regular TtP chapters begin again tomorrow! Thanks to all of you reviewing and following this little side adventure.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter <span>3 - _Learning __to __Fly_

Waking up to a giant bird on his chest was the last thing Alim expected the next morning.

Feeling pressure on his stomach, he had shifted uneasily, only to upset the hawk that was now flapping unhappily on his bedroll. Cracking an eye open he nearly screamed when the hawk had squawked loudly at him, hopping around in another fit.

"Andraste's knickers, what in the realm-!"

Outside the tent he could hear Serena giggling like mad as the front flap opened and Morrigan sauntered in, grinning. Alim blushed at the sight of her; infinitely thankful he did not sleep in the nude. Well, not in the winter, anyway.

"'Tis morning. I have come to collect you."

"Uh, let me just... put on my... let me just put on clothes. More clothes." He scrambled out of his bedroll, trying not to upset the hawk again as it eyed him warily. Pulling on a pair of leather breeches and a long sleeved shirt, he grabbed a cloak and his staff.

"You will not need your staff," Morrigan said, her golden eyes taking in the contents of Alim's tent. She paused on his crate of belongings, her eyes flickering over his small book he used to keep track of his spells. "Do not bring the cloak, either." Without another word, she swept back out of the tent in a swish of fabric.

Serena's cheeks were still red from laughing when he came out of the tent. The hawk hopped out in front of him, as if leading him to the giggling brunette.

"Hello, lovely," Serena cooed, and the hawk clucked its approval, flapping its wings to perch on her outstretched arm. "I appreciate you waking up Alim for us."

"You are a very _mean_ girl," the mage spluttered, scowling.

"And _you_ snore, or so I'm told," Serena replied, nodding to the bird. "Morrigan told me about your... workshop... this morning, so I decided to help find you a willing participant. This is Peter. He's a spotted harrier."

"Did you name him Peter?" Alim asked. The big reddish bird was cocking its head this way and that, picking up sounds Alim couldn't, despite his elven hearing.

"No, but you could not pronounce his actual name. It sounds like Peter though, so he will understand you if you use it." Serena whispered to the hawk for a moment before the bird flapped its wings again, landing on Alim's shoulder unexpectedly. "He's a sweet pea, so you just be nice to him, okay?"

Alim glanced at the hawk, and saw Peter eye him curiously. Apparently the bird didn't know if she was referring to him or Alim, either. Her smile told him she intended the confusion on purpose.

"We're going to break down the camp in about two hours, but Morrigan knows which way we're headed," Serena continued. "I'll take care of your things, so don't you worry about that. Just focus on the training." She pointed into the woods behind Alim. "She went... that way, I think. Good luck!" She flashed him a quick smile before disappearing into the tent she shared with Alistair.

* * *

><p>He found the witch in the woods, brushing out a space for them to set down.<p>

"We'll start with the mediation, and then I will be able to see how well you can concentrate." She crossed her legs in front of her, watching keenly as Alim carefully sat down, the hawk still balancing precariously on his shoulder.

"Close your eyes, clear your mind," commanded Morrigan softly. "Think only of your breathing, in and out. Slow, smooth, in… and out." Alim gently set Peter down on the ground beside him and concentrated, listening only to Morrigan's voice, only to the words she spoke.

He could feel the calm steal over him, like back in the tower, when he was trying to teach himself a new spell. Magic was all about control, all about focus. You focused your mind, focused your willpower to do what you wanted... and it happened.

More or less. _Usually_.

"You have chosen a hawk," Morrigan continued in her languid voice. "Imagine becoming the hawk. Instead of fingers, you have feathers. Instead of weight, you are light. Your bones weigh almost nothing at all. You feel a beak grow where your nose and mouth were once, your ears fold in, your eyes are sharper. You feel the mind of the hawk consume you from within."

_I __feel __the __mind __of __the __hawk __consume __me __from __within_.

"Very good," Morrigan replied, her voice sounding appreciative. "Much better than I thought for a first try."

Alim opened his eyes. Peter was beside him still, though much bigger. The bird cocked its head, his large eyes staring curiously at Alim. Morrigan, too, was absolutely enormous. He went to hold up his hands and realized they were short stubby wings, and he flapped awkwardly on the ground, hopping about.

"Do not try to move too much-" Morrigan cursed, reaching out to grab at Alim. He was flapping wildly now, his arms... wings... whatever they were... they were responding to him, but it was hard, he was tiring, and he still felt too _heavy_.

"You are not fully changed! Stop moving!" The witch sent out a telekinetic burst of energy that stunned him, knocking him to the ground again. Peter squawked at the sight, his little feet hopping around. Alim looked up and she clucked in disapproval at the two of them.

"Bird brains," the witch muttered, rolling her golden eyes. "Remember your own form, Alim, and change back."

The process was slower this time. Alim watched as slowly his winglike arms stretched back and became the arms of a man, with fingers at the end, wiggling like worms. His eyesight became less acute, which he found himself missing. His skin slowly lost the feathers, then the feather pattern, and then it was simply his own bronze skin, unblemished.

"You understand the basic principle, obviously." Her eyes roamed over him for a moment before resting once again on his face. "We will rest for five, and then try again."

* * *

><p>It was mid-afternoon by the time they stopped. He could change fully into Peter, well, into the hawk's form, anyway, after his fourth attempt. Despite her admonishments, Morrigan seemed pleased with his progress.<p>

"They've moved on by now, you know," Alim said, staring up at the sky. "Serena said two hours at most."

"'Tis important to me that you could master this form," Morrigan replied. "Do not worry about the others. We will catch up to them in time."

Alim chuckled. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

Morrigan simply smiled mysteriously, standing up from the ground. She stretched her arms, shaking out the limbs. Turning to the hawk, she spoke clearly. "You will lead us." Then without another word, she shifted in front of him, becoming a large black crow and the two birds took off.

"Oh, I get it. This is one of those... forced learning opportunities." Realizing the two birds would not wait for him, he put out his arms and concentrated, feeling the shift come upon him.

It was strange, really. It didn't hurt. It never hurt, it just felt like... stretching. Like having a good stretch after being cooped up in one position for too long. Flapping his wings to catch up to Morrigan and Peter, he realized why the witch shifted to a wolf and went for a run.

He'd never known what it felt like to be free of his own skin until now. Or how anyone could stand it compared to _this_.

Alim was flapping hard to keep up with them, not understanding how the smaller crow was so easily outstripping him in distance. Peter soared up and down, moving his wings only occasionally as he pushed across the land.

_Feel __the __air __between __your __feathers. __Let __it __lift __you __on __its __own_, Morrigan called to him. _Let __the __wind __do __the __work __for __you_.

Trees and valleys glided past, once he got the measure of his new wings. Tiny rivers and small farms dotted the landscape as they followed the road Serena and the others were presumably on.

It was maybe an hour before they caught up to the party, a rather large group compared to the others Alim had seen on the road. A lone horseman here, or a small party following a wagon over there, taking a side road north to avoid the colder weather coming up from the southern reaches.

He followed Morrigan down as they landed in a clearing, shifting quickly back to their... taller forms. Alim felt slightly disappointed as he saw his fingers emerge from the feathers, his face contorting itself to shape his nose and mouth from the hawk's beak.

"Every time... 'tis different, and amazing." Morrigan shook out her long dark hair, striding purposefully through the trees to where the road lay beyond. "You kept up. I am impressed."

"I didn't have a choice," he replied, keeping pace at her side. "It never stops being incredible, does it? The change?"

"No."

Alim nodded. "Good."

Serena had Peter balanced on her arm when they emerged from the woods and stepped onto the road. Some of the others waved to them, Alim holding up a hand to wave back. Morrigan snorted, joining Serena in quick conversation.

"And how did it go?" Serena was speaking to Morrigan, but facing the bird. Alim wondered if perhaps she wasn't having a silent conversation with the hawk that neither Morrigan nor he were privy to. Her new abilities were strange, and Alim found himself longing to probe her with questions about what she could do now.

"He was... exemplary," the witch replied. "He can change into the form of the hawk."

"Excellent! I'm so excited to have two shifters among us. Everybody is learning such amazing things." Serena scrambled in her pocket for something with her free hand. "I was going to send Peter ahead, so Irving knows we're coming, just in case we run into any more of Loghain's lackeys."

"Are you concerned he will attempt to attack us once again?" Morrigan drawled.

"I am always concerned he will send more people to their deaths, yes," Serena replied. She extracted the piece of paper, tying it carefully to the hawk's leg. "I would like this to go to First Enchanter Irving, specifically," she said to the hawk. "But if you cannot find him, Knight-Commander Greagoir will do." Serena closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the hawks briefly. "Did you get that?"

Peter squawked loudly in response, fluttering his wings. "Alright. Thank you, my friend. We shall see you tomorrow if all goes according to plan. I'll make sure I have some of the salted rabbit you like." With a slight turn of his head, the bird lifted off her arm and flew up and away.

"What did you do, just then?" Alim asked.

"I sent him an impression of what Irving looks like." Serena shrugged, readjusting the pack on her back. "Otherwise, he wouldn't know who to look for." Alim noticed Morrigan drift away then, obviously finding the conversation tedious if it didn't involve her directly.

"You can... do that?"

Serena smiled. "I can now, yes."

"What else can you do?" Alistair asked, coming up from behind. "I'd been meaning to ask. You've been surprising me a lot lately." Alim nodded. He'd been wondering the same thing. Her powers appeared to be growing by the day.

"Other than impressions, I can talk to them... if you changed Alim, I could talk to you as a bird just as easily as a human, though others would think I was crazy, I imagine. I call to them much easier now." Serena's eyes hazed over briefly, as if she were focusing on something they couldn't see. "They want to serve me, be near me. I'm one of the pack, the flock, the herd. They know me as one of their own."

"But is it the same if you take off the gauntlets?" Alim wondered. He hadn't realized he was speaking aloud until Serena was unbuckling the thick leather gloves.

"They help, but less and less everyday." She pulled off the thin wrappings that kept her hands warm and Alim could see the leaf pattern was there for a moment, just faintly. "What do you think that means?"

"Maybe you're absorbing the lyrium into your skin? I'm not sure. Perhaps the Circle library will have some books on it..." Alim mentally made a note to scour the library for anything that might explain it, though he thought Serena's instance was probably one of the first of its kind.

"Does it wear you down?" Alistair handed her back the gauntlets, and she appeared thoughtful as she buckled them in place. "Whenever I use my templar abilities... well, let's just say I can't use them too often, unless I want to knock back a lyrium vial or two."

"The wolves tired me a bit," Serena replied. "Back with the... with the... you know, Laryn." The broodmother still haunted their dreams, Alim knew, as they did his own. It was probably far worse for the Wardens, though. "I think because it was a pack? It was more minds to control. And they were Blighted."

"And that feels differently, too, I must assume?" He felt a bit like he was taking a survey, or running an experiment. Alim hoped his probing didn't annoy Serena too much.

"The Blight? Yes." Serena cringed slightly. "It feels like death. Like a great blanket of corruption being pulled up from the south, to tuck Ferelden in a bed of disease. What it did to the pack, to all my friends..." She rubbed her temples, as if to banish the image from her mind. "Let's talk of something happier, hmm?"

"As you say," said Alim; catching the look Alistair shot him from over Serena's head. It was a look that clearly said, 'we will talk later'. "How do you feel about… rainbows?"

Serena laughed. "Rainbows? Why, I simply _adore_ them. Especially with a side of frolicking puppies."

* * *

><p>That night, Alim could not sleep. Slipping quietly out of his tent, he nodded briskly to Sten and Zevran, who were on watch for the night. The assassin was chattering away by the fire as Sten cleaned his sword unnecessarily, making a rather raunchy gesture at Alim as he passed.<p>

"I was just telling our large qunari friend here a tale one of my various exploits."

"Is it the one where you bed half of Antiva's nobility in twelve hours?" Alim asked.

The assassin's face fell slightly. "So you have heard it?"

"Twice," Alim replied sadly. "But don't let me interrupt. Sten is obviously enraptured." The blonde assassin winked then, throwing Alim one of his more brilliant smiles before turning back to the qunari, who rolled his eyes.

Continuing on past the fire, Alim paused at the beginning of the woods, unsure of where he meant to go. Stepping into the nearby clearing, he moved over to the tree where Serena and Leliana had been shooting, the bark pot-marked from their arrows. Slumping below its leaves, he sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in an effort to relieve the stress.

Alim knew his sleeplessness was from anxiety. The Circle Tower loomed ever closer, hours away now, and even less if he flew. The thought was tempting. He could change, fly away, far away...

The urge to run, to steal away in the night was squirming in his gut, working its way through until it was all he could think of. What if Serena's protection as Commander was not enough? What if Greagoir intended to punish him for Jowan's mistake? What if the Circle Tower held only a sword to the gut for him? What if-

"If you left, she would find you."

Morrigan's voice was quiet, sultry almost, in his ear. He hadn't heard her come up, so consumed in his own circular thoughts as he was.

"How do you know I was thinking that?"

"It is written all over your face. Your fear. Apprehension." The witch settled next to him, leaning against the tree, and Alim couldn't help following the lines of her loose-fitting robes with his eyes. Morrigan smiled, obviously enjoying the attention. "It is almost intoxicating."

"By 'she', I presume you mean Serena."

"Yes." Morrigan's smile widened. "She sees you as a friend, and if you left, I believe she would be heartbroken. Or she might hunt you down, in fear that you ran back to Loghain." The witch shrugged. "She has become quite paranoid about that, as of late."

"I wouldn't go back to Loghain," Alim said quietly. "I'd disappear."

"You wouldn't get far if I chose to chase after you, too."

Alim glanced sidelong at her. "Why Morrigan, I didn't know you cared."

"Nor did I." She sighed. "Yet here we are."

There was a long pause where Alim just gazed up at the sky, watching the white clouds roll across the great black expanse. He didn't know what to say, really. That fear, that apprehension she spoke of was very real, he could feel it thrumming in his blood even now. But he couldn't help the feeling that he would be betraying these people he now considered his friends by even entertaining these traitorous thoughts. Plus, there was this very pretty witch... and an attraction he would be hard pressed to deny.

"Well, I suppose I'll stay then. It wouldn't do for you to lose your star pupil, would it?"

"Not when there are so many things left to teach." Alim noticed Morrigan slide closer then, and he felt his body tighten, though not uncomfortably. He barely knew this woman, and yet the reaction he had to her presence was almost palpable.

"Though it might be fun to let you chase me a bit," he said archly, wrapping an arm around her waist slowly. He felt the witch respond to his touch easily, as if she were simply waiting for him to make a move. The anxiety in his stomach was swiftly turning to something else.

"I believe I have chased you enough this evening," Morrigan replied, tipping her head up. The words had barely escaped her lips before Alim was capturing them with his own, pulling her as close as he could get her. The kiss was long, and slow, and in that moment Alim knew he couldn't walk away even if he tried.


End file.
